The Girl, the Friend and the Future
by Jaiaelle
Summary: Quinn helps Artie to regain his friendship with Puck.  Quartie, Partie bromance, some Puckleberry on the side.


_Author's Note: This was written to fufill a request for a Partie/Quartie story. It's got some humor, some angst, some Puckleberry, Partie bromance and lots of Quartie fluff. If you read, be so kind as to leave a review. Thanks! _

_**The Girl, the Friend and the Future**_

In the darkened office, Artie sits, alternating the hands in his lap. First, the right is on top. Then the left. Then the right again. He feel fidgety and nervous. Maybe because Principal Figgins calling him to his office had been surprising. It wasn't like he hadn't been there before but each time it was due to some award of academic excellence. Or something glee club related. The note he had received in the middle of his third period calculus class had contained no details as to why he needed to come to the office.

"_Come to my office, Mr. Abrams_," were the only words on the small piece of white paper.

So here he is, in Principal Figgins' office, right eye slightly twitching and hands shifting constantly in his lap. He's been in this state for over five minutes, though it seems like longer, when the Principal finally enters.

"Sorry, Mr. Abrams," he apologies. "I had to use the facilities."

Artie's response is a wide eyed stare, the corners of his mouth drooping. Can't the older man see that he's sitting there practically having an anxiety attack? And he's talking about having to relieve himself. Which is too much information anyway, Artie thinks.

"Now, I have already spoken with your parents on this matter-"

His parents? And his mind is racing. What did he do that would warrant a call to his parents by the Principal?

"And they have agreed that I can tell you the good news! You are so accelerated in your courses that you get to graduate early! And, in fact, you are the valedictorian!"

The way his mouth flops open, he must look like fish. He blinks several times, as the words sink in. But he can't quite process them, even after a couple of minutes. "I'm -"

"Graduating this year instead of next!" Figgins exclaims.

"Graduating this year," Artie parrots, his blue eyes wide, emotions swirling behind them. "Well…thanks," he murmurs, not quite sure what else to say.

Nodding, Figgins extends a hand and they shake, as if they are sealing a deal.

As he wheels himself out of the principal's office, he can't help but think a thousand things at once but three specific issues rise to the surface: 1. He's graduating a year early, which is great, 2. He hasn't applied to any colleges so what's he going to do about that and 3. He's not sure who to proclaim the good and troubling news to.

Freshman year, there would have been Tina, his girlfriend and closest friend (he had never considered her best friend, though had they continued dating maybe they would have ventured into that territory). Telling her is an option but it's almost lunch and her and Mike always go off campus for lunch these days.

Last year, Sophomore year, there had been Puck and possibly Brittany (Brittany, if he was in the mood to thoroughly explain everything to someone who probably still wouldn't understand). But Puck. Puck had been his one and only best friend.

For reasons Artie is unclear about, Puck had drifted away from Artie that year. The one person he believed would always high five him hadn't. Sure it was a one time thing but it meant something to Artie.

Heaving a sigh as the thoughts of the faded friendship assailed him, Artie rolls down the hall, barely watching where he is going.

So he can't tell Tina, he can't tell Puck, he wouldn't tell Brittany anyway. There's a list of names of other people in his head but he slowly crosses every single one. The situation he has just deemed hopeless when, barely glancing up, he spots a flash of blonde hair. Lifting his eyes, he sees her standing there, staring at the contents of her locker.

Quinn?

Spill the news to Quinn?

Though the two haven't talked very often since she joined glee club, the few encounters have led him to believe that Quinn is a kind person at heart. Confused and hurt, sure. But also full of an understanding and compassion she rarely lets anyone see. He has seen it though, time and time again.

Placing his hands on his wheels, he propels himself toward her, thinking about how tragically beautiful she is. Graceful yet sad. A dream in human form.

The most breathtakingly alluring girl he's ever known. Probably in the world.

He's sitting next to her for several moments before he wills himself to speak. Though she's human, her radiance almost makes her seem divine, when she's not talking. This makes it hard for him to gather the courage to speak. So often, he doesn't speak to her, because he is somewhat intimidated by her. This time, however, he will.

"Quinn?" he squeaks.

A tremor, very slight, moves through her body. She closes her eyes, then opens him. Turns her head and looks at him. "Artie," she says, her voice calm, cool. Her demeanor portrays nothing but being absolutely collected. "Hi." A smile splits her face and, being the recipient of something so rare, Artie almost forgets why he's there.

"Hi," he whispers, cheeks flushing a bit. Mentally, he kicks himself. Snap out of it, Abrams. Your Freshman crush was a long time. Those feelings are, _of course, _long gone. "I…I wanted to tell you something!" he exclaims, remembering the point of even approaching her. "I'm graduating in May. With you and…everyone."

"Oh!" Her mouth forms a shape like the noise she just made. Brow wrinkling, she seems to be studying the matter in her mind. "Is that good or bad? How do you feel about it?" At the sentence uttered, she grimaces. He is reminded of years of therapy and always being asked, "And how do you feel about that?" but keeps it to himself.

"I don't know… Figgins just told me, literally ten minutes ago. I think I'm excited but I need to start…thinking about what comes next. I thought I'd have another whole year. Which I still could have, I guess. They won't make me graduate early but I wanna…"

Grinning, Quinn shuts her locker. "Then it's good. Congratulations, Artie." Bending at the waist, Quinn embraces him. Frozen, he doesn't return the hug, emotions assailing him, his stomach doing flip flops, his heart beating right out of his chest.

OMG, runs through his mind a dozen times before she steps back and then he can only wonder why he sat there, arms stuck to his side, as Quinn had had her arms around him.

She doesn't seem to notice his current state, however, as a question falls from her lips. "He just told you? Am I the first person you've told?"

It's all he can do to nod.

"Why did you tell me first? Why not…Puck? I thought he was your best friend."

It is merely a comment but it stings. "Was," he mutters, the corners of his mouth drooping.

Confused, Quinn scrunches her nose, in a way that Artie finds pretty adorable, and leans up against the lockers. "What happened? What changed?"

As if Artie has any of the answers when it comes to Puck. He shrugs.

Biting her lip, Quinn stares into the distance. "A lot has happened this year. A lot has been on his mind. I'm sure he, as much as you, could use a friend. You should try talking to him."

Clasping his hands in his lap, Artie gives a shake of his head. "It's not that simple, Quinn. I'm not sure we can ever go back…"

She runs a tongue over her teeth, the simple act almost causing Artie to fall out of his chair. He can't help but watch the pink slide over the white. It's too hot to handle. Again, she's oblivious. "What if you could? What if I…helped?"

Still thinking about her tongue, Artie doesn't at first reply. Then she's tapping his hand, gaining his attention. "Uh, what? You'd do that? Why?"

"Call it a good deed," she replies, crossing her arms over her chest.

He's stunned but that doesn't stop the yes from crossing his lips. "Yes! Help me regain my bromance with Puck."

Raising a hand to her mouth, she holds in a guffaw and he frowns. "First off, don't call it a bromance. We have to work toward that. Second, meet me after school to hatch a game plan."

And that's how he finds himself at Quinn Fabray's house on the same Thursday afternoon he got the news he could graduate early.

Although, calling it her house is a stretch since they're actually in her backyard. The steps leading into her house make entry into it impossible for him. Yet it's a clear path to the large backyard and even though it's winter, snowing and freezing, they are sitting near the small garden, bundled up and discussing the plan.

"Talk to him?" Artie asks, raising an eyebrow. He had expected something more intricate from her but she seems content with such simplicity. "Don't you think I've tried that, woman?" The word slips off his tongue before he can bite it back and he expects a blowback. Tina had hated it. Brittany hadn't been a fan. And the last girl he had called it had made a snide remark about him being only half a man. He winces at the memory.

But Quinn isn't phased. "It's the first step. Duh," she adds sardonically, quirking her mouth.

What would it be like to kiss her when her mouth does that? No, focus, Artie, focus, he thinks, pushing all the images that just flooded his brain out. Where is all this coming from? It's really rhetorical question because he knows. That crush from Freshman year that he's always trying to distract himself from has always been there, under the surface, waiting to emerge. Plus, she's so pretty. No straight guy could sit there and not be thinking impure thoughts. No way.

"Start a conversation about something he might be interested in. I made flash cards."

Puffing out one cheek, he stares at the index cards she extends, gingerly taking them, the tips of their fingers brushing against each other. "Uhh…" Coherency, he reminds himself. Make words into sentences. "Let me see…" Going through them, he sees a variety of topics. Sports, video games, getting out of Lima. But he notices one that he thinks should be there missing. "But not girls?"

A strange look passes over Quinn's face. "That is a subject you should probably steer clear of," she tells him, tucking some hair behind her ear.

He contemplates what she says but still doesn't understand. "Why would that be -"

Putting up a hand, she stops him. "You're not there yet, you and him. But you will be. Start slowly. Use the cards."

Grunting, Artie nods, pockets the cards, hums under his breath, looks around.

"You don't have to stay." The words are tinged in sadness, her eyes darting to her lap.

Picking up a brownie, still warm, from the plate she brought out, he takes a savage bite, talking around the food in his mouth. "I want to. If not here, I'd just be at home playing Halo. And I like the company."

Pink dusts her cheeks as she selects her own brownie. "I do too." Her smile chases the coldness away for a few minutes. "And if you weren't here, I'd just be doing scholarship stuff. I don't really…" The sentence remains unfinished as she gazes at the dessert in her hand.

Don't really what? Now, his curiosity is piqued and once that happens, he won't be able to rest until he knows. So he fidgets for several minutes, while she watches him amused.

"What is it?" she asks, once she is finished with her browning. In the meantime, he's eaten three.

"Don't really what? If you don't mind me asking."

Sighing, she drops her head and picks at the material of her heavy skirt. "I don't really have any friends. I know it's my fault for ruining every single one but it's still…" Her shoulders slump and she looks defeated. "People are nice to me again, since I'm nice to them, but it's not the same. I wish…I had a friend."

It's something he understands. Reaching across the distance separating him, he pats her shoulder. "You do have one."

Not much later, he leaves to go home, as it is really too cold to stay outside much longer. He goes his way, she hers, both with the knowledge that they are friends. And maybe they don't have anyone else at the moment but at least they have each other.

* * *

><p>The next day, Friday, is the big day. And he's nervous as he approaches Puck at his locker, in the short time between last period and glee club. Swallowing, he looks over his shoulder to see Quinn, who gives him a thumbs up. Taking the encouragement, he pushes ahead.<p>

"Hey, Puck." Trying to sound nonchalant but failing, Artie grimaces.

"Abrams," Puck grunts, shutting his locker. No little Jedi or little master or Artie. Just Abrams.

"Uh, so…did you…see the game?" Artie manages to get out as they turn toward the choir room.

"What game?" Puck asks, eyes in front of him.

"You know, that…one game." Crap. He forgot to research sports last night. He had meant to. And here is, sounding like an idiot because he doesn't even know what season it is.

Opening the door, Puck goes inside, tossing back a, "No, think I missed it. Later."

Dejected, Artie finds himself sliding down in his chair. Before he can completely slide off the chair, two hands prop him up, one on either shoulder. He finds himself under the scrutiny of hazel eyes in an almost angelic face. "Quinn, it didn't go well," he informs her.

"Then we try again," she says, determinedly. "No giving up."

* * *

><p>Her next idea is rather simple but Artie is reluctant to implement it. "I'm not trying to woo him…" he remarks, pushing an ear bud into his ear.<p>

Raising an eyebrow, Quinn disagrees. "That is_ exactly_ where you are doing. Wooing him."

Scoffing a little, Artie looks up at her. "This isn't romantic…" Somewhat alarmed, for reasons he can't verify, he asks, "That's not what you think, is it? Because whatever Puck might be, I'm not. If he is, I have no problem with that, at all. He's the closest thing I have to a best friend but that's all were are. Friends. See, there's this other person…" He's getting nervous and perspiring and can't stop talking.

When she holds up a hand, though, he shuts up. "I have no idea what you're talking about but I know that you are not pursuing Puck in a romantic sense. When a friendship just…stops, for whatever reason, it sucks. I want to help you get back what you had with Puck. Because I'm your friend. And…" She mumbles the rest under her breath and he does not hear her.

"What was that?" One hand reaches to pull out the ear bud in place but she stops him.

"We don't have time for this. Hurry, go. Intercept Puck at his locker!"

Following her orders, Artie quickly pushes away, slowing as he approaches Puck's locker and hitting send. He can hear the phone ringing and the click that indicates that someone has picked up through the ear bud.

_"I'm here. Is this working?"_

It seems to be, as only he can hear her voice. "Think so. Can you hear me?"

_"Roger."_

He can't help but grin at her use of the word but he drops the smile as he closes in on Puck. For a few minutes, he sits there until he hears Quinn say, _"Hi, how are you?"_

"Hey, Puck," he greets, hoping he sounds casual. "'Sup?"

In his ear, Quinn's voice fairly growls, _"Not what I said."_

Holding in his laughter, Artie pays attention to what Puck's saying. "Not much. How 'bout you?"

_"I don't have a lot going on,"_ Quinn tells him to say.

"Same."

_"This is supposed to be verbatim. You're ruining everything!"_

But he can tell she's joking.

_"I got this game,_" Quinn is saying.

"So I got a new game," Artie blurts out, aware that Puck is ready to head to his next class.

"Yeah?"

_"You can murder zombies in it!"_

Murder zombies? "It's a zombie apocalypse kind of game. You get to kill zombies." He really hopes this is a real game and not one Quinn made up. "Way better than any of the Resident Evils."

Adjusting his backpack strap over his shoulder, Puck nods and kind of smiles down at Artie. "Sounds awesome."

_"We should play it sometime!"_ Quinn screeches in his ear, right as Puck is turning to leave.

Is she watching? Twisting her neck, his eyes scan the halls when he sees her, down the hall, spying on them. She gives a wave and an impish look crosses her face. How is it okay for anyone to be that adorable and hot at the same time? "We should play it sometime," he says, with a shrug, rolling along beside Puck.

"Maybe."

_"Don't beg him. Just calmly say, Friday, after school."_

Beg? Why would she think he would do that? "Perhaps Friday after school?"

Laughing, Puck rounds a corner, heading to his class. "Perhaps? Yeah, perhaps. I'll text you."

"Sounds good," is his reply, in unison with the Quinn voice in his ear.

Spinning around, he hurries over to Quinn, hardly able to contain his happiness over what just happened.

"That was kind of an agreement. But…" His joy fades as he recalls the game might not be real. "Please tell me this is a real game, woman."

With a sigh, that seems to say, Artie, how can you not trust me? she pulls a flat, rectangular case from her bag. On the front, in red words that gave the illusion of dripping, read the words, "Hollywood Zombies Attack!"

He's laughing at the cheesiness of the art on the cover, as well as recognizing some of Hollywood's famous faces, but he has to admit the game sounds like something him and Puck would enjoy. "Where'd you get this?"

"Oh, you know…I did my research," she says with a wink.

A wink that takes him completely off guard. And makes him feel sick but in a good way. Which doesn't make a whole lot of sense but he can't really explain it any other way. "Oh, uh, um, well, do you, so I…" he stammers, unsure of where he is going with his words.

Placing a hand over her mouth, Quinn almost giggles, the noise echoing in her throat.

Artie is completely mesmerized, goofy grin in place on his face. "I…mean, what I meant was…I owe you, girl." It is now his turn to attempt at a wink but instead he sends an exaggerated blink her way, causing her to burst out into laughter. Feigning as if his ego has been punctured, Artie crosses his arms over his chest. "Did that on purpose, yo."

Still laughing, Quinn nods, mmhmm-sure-ing him. "And you don't owe me. I did this because I wanted to."

It's hard to imagine that she doesn't have ulterior motives, probably because he expects everyone to have ulterior motives. But that she doesn't is -

"That's not the truth," she admits, her voice quiet. "No, it is…I wanted to help you but my…my therapist said that helping other people ultimately helps me so…I thought…well…" When she trails off, she lifts her hazel eyes to meet his and he's never seen her appear so vulnerable. "Please don't tell anyone I see a shrink," she requests, voice barely above a whisper.

Speechless, for barely a moment, he gawks at her. Then he shakes his head and rolls toward her, reaching for a hand. Taking her smaller, smoother hand in his own, he runs his thumb over her knuckles, watching as it bumps along. "Hey." His voice is soft but she can hear it in the now almost empty halls. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes he's late to class but this moment, with Quinn, is much more important than calculus. "Hey, Q…I won't tell anyone. But I hope you know it's nothing to be ashamed of. I…I've been seeing a therapist for years." Swallowing, he tells her what he has told no one before. "I started going after the…after the accident. It helped to talk to someone. I still go, most of the time. Only when I was…" Biting the inside of his cheek, he averts his eyes. "I didn't go when I was dating Brittany. The comments she sometimes made…I knew what the therapist would think about them. I just wanted the girl for once but I didn't even…anyway, sorry," he mumbles, wagering a glance up at her. Her eyes are transfixed upon him and she's just listening. Baring his teeth, he attempts a smile, which she sort of returns.

"Thanks," she says, after a few minutes. "For sharing that. It makes me feel…less like an oddity, I guess."

This time, his smile is much more genuine. "Thanks for sharing what you did with me." Reluctantly, he drops her hand, jerking his head in the direction of his class. "I gotta bounce but I'll catch you later."

Taking a few steps back, she tells him, "You will because you owe me. Dinner will work for that." Another wink and she's gone, leaving him sitting there, frozen except for his racing-wildly-out-of-control heart.

* * *

><p>So it's Friday at 5:03 p.m. when Puck texts Artie.<p>

"Be there in fifteen," reads the text, sending Artie into a panic. Fifteen minutes? His room is a mess, he has nothing for Puck to eat (well, there is that leftover meatloaf and those carrots but those aren't really bro-time foods), he's wearing only his boxers. Without giving it much thought, he calls the one person who might be able to help calm him down in this situation.

"Quinn," he breathes into the phone. "Puck is coming over in fifteen minutes. He just texted me. That's all the warning I get. I'm sitting here in my boxers with nothing good to eat in this house and my room is a mess. Why didn't he text me earlier? I assumed he wasn't coming at all." The words come out in a rush and he's not even sure she heard everything he said.

"Wait…back up. Only in your boxers? So you're a boxers man… What's on them, hearts maybe? Are they plaid? Or solid colored?"

Slightly embarrassed that he had mentioned that at all, Artie snaps out a reply, "Woman! This is not the time for you to grill me about my under things! I'm in crisis mode!" He's glad she's not with him to see the blush spreading across his cheeks, neck and chest.

"Sorry, I was just picturing you and wanted to get the details right," she mutters. "Now, take a breath, calm down. Get dressed first, order a pizza, then organize your room."

"Got it. Thanks, Quinn." Before he can end the call, he remembers to add, "Tomorrow, dinner. You and me. What do you think?"

"It's a date."

As if he wasn't already panicking enough, her words send him into a tailspin. "A…friend date." He means it to be more of a question, for her to clarify what she means but it comes out sounding like a statement.

"Oh, sure…" Does she sound disappointed? "Have fun with Puck. I'll see you tomorrow."

She hangs up without giving him a chance to tell her what time he'll be picking her up the next day. Or to explain what he meant by his words. As he quickly gets dressed, orders the pizza, then starts cleaning his room, he contemplates the enigma that is Quinn Fabray and the Quartie connection. Quartie connection. He snorts. He likes that. He'd like for there to be more Quartie connection in the future. A lot of it. And maybe Quinn does too. The door bell rings, just as he is throwing the last of his dirty clothes into the hamper, interrupting his thoughts. He hurries toward the door, opening it to find, as expected, Puck, only a few minutes late.

"Dude," says Puck, coming in. "Let's kill some zombies."There never is much preamble with Puck which Artie can appreciate and even try to emulate, since it's preamble, midamble and postamble all the time with him. "Yeah, come in," he teases, shutting the door behind his friend, who didn't even wait to enter. "The game's in my room and some pizza's on its way. I hope pepperoni's okay."

Shrugging, Puck heads toward Artie's room, remembering where it is. Besides Tina, he's the only member of the Glee club who Artie has ever invited to his home. There's a lot of stuff he wouldn't want anyone to see, not even Puck or Tina, but he knows they can be trusted not to poke around or ask too many questions. They respect that. He doesn't even want to think about what would've happened if Brittany had ever come to his house. If she had seen his bathroom. It was hard enough trying to explain to her that paraplegia was about more than just his legs not working. And she had never understood _that_.

By the time he reaches his room, not long after Puck, the other guy already has the game in the PS3 loading. "I hope Hayden Christensen is a zombie. I want to destroy him."

"Not sure," Artie admits, picking up his bright blue controller and handing Puck the red one. "I haven't played it yet. What's your problem with Hayden Christensen?"

Narrowing his eyes, Puck starts in on a tirade about how_ Attack of the Clones_ sucked, largely because of that whiny loser.

Artie is more than mildly amused by Puck's rant but keeps this to himself.

They've just fought off an attack by the zombie-fied Jonas brothers and Miley Cyrus when the doorbell rings and they decide to break for pizza. Because he knows his mom would kill him if he ate anywhere but in the kitchen (she's not home but if he broke the cardinal rule, she'd find out…she always does), the two sit at the round table in the kitchen, eating the pizza and drinking soda. "Soooo…what's been going on with you?"

Pulling his head back, Puck eyes him. "Nothing. Why? What did Quinn say?"

Confused, Artie finishes his current bite of pizza, then wipes his mouth. "What did she say about what?"

"Uh," Puck grunts, eyes on his fourth slice of pizza. "Never mind. So, uh, you got the big reject by Sugar, huh?"

The subject's somewhat painful but Artie's ultimately glad she shot him down. Twice. Because for all his talk about not judging others based on disabilities, he had been ready to date someone who judged him for his own disability. He had lost his head but it was back on straight. "Good thing too. She's not a good fit for me. I blame wanting her and…" Dating Brittany, he says in his head but not out loud. "On temporary insanity. What about you? Getting any action?"

Looking like he's about to puke up his pizza, Puck shakes his head. "Nope, no one. Not at all. Uhhh, glee club. That's, um, gonna miss it, maybe."

It comes out before he can bite his tongue. "You mean Rachel?" He would have to be blind to not to see how Puck looked at Rachel. Although he was certain that most everyone else missed it. Artie was pretty observant though.

Instead of denying or reacting angrily, Puck slumps down. "Dude, she loves Finn so much. And she's tethered to him or something…I'm not even sure she knows where she ends and he begins. 'Sides, I kinda…totally ruined any chance of anything happening there, ever again." Rubbing his hands over his face, Puck sighs for a long time. "Don't know why I'm even telling you all this…"

Thinking of this as an opportunity, Artie leans forward. "Sometimes you have to talk to someone about things. And who better than a…good friend?" He qualifies friend with good, hoping Puck will agree that Artie is indeed that.

"Yeah." Artie is thrilled. Puck considers him a good friend! "So, yeah. Breathe a word of this to anyone and I'll, uh, well I may have to kick your -"

Holding up a hand, Artie stops Puck from finishing his threat. "Whatever you tell me will be held in strict confidence."

"That mean you won't say anything to no one?" Puck asks, scrunching his brow.

"Yeah, that's what it means."

Gulping down a breath, Puck glances at him, then says his next words fast. "I like Rachel, okay? Always have but I slept with her mom so even if she weren't heels over head for Finn, nothing could happen between us. I messed it up, bro. Any chance."

Stunned, Artie tries to think of a reply but fails. Whoa, is all that is running through his brain. Puck slept with Ms. Corcoran…with Rachel's mom? Whoa. And Quinn knew? Whoa. Whoa. Artie can't stop the whoas.

"I think…I coulda loved her."

And then Puck starts to cry.

Or, well, not cry exactly but his head is in hands and he's taking deep breaths. Hesitatingly, Artie pats his friend's back. It's a small comfort but it's still something, right?

Despite Puck opening up to him, as he would only to a good and trusted friend, Artie can take no joy in what just occurred. All he can muster is sadness, so much sadness, for his friend.

* * *

><p>He's not nervous, at all. Not wiping his hands on his pants as he heads out the door. Not listening to the pounding of his heart as he drives to her house. Not feeling like he might throw up as he waits at the bottom of the steps leading up to her house after sending a text.<p>

When she emerges from the house, she is wearing a pair of jeans and a peacoat. Her hair is pulled into two tiny braids. The make up on her face is minimal and he can only think one thing. "You look beautiful."

It's too dark for him to see the blush creeping across her cheeks. "Thanks. So, where are we going?"

Is it in his imagination that she sounds bored? He hopes so. "It's a surprise."

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she heads towards his station wagon. Pushing himself to go fast, he arrives just before her and opens the passenger's side door, gesturing for her to get in, bowing his head. "Such a gentleman," she tells him, grinning as she lowers herself into the seat.

After he is situated in the driver's seat, he pulls out into the street, telling her to pick whatever she wants to listen to. She settles on some station that plays mostly 80s music, starting to sing along with the song_ Love is a Battlefield_. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as she sings and wiggles around in her seat to the music. Quinn Fabray, letting loose, in his car. He likes it.

"Can you tell me about this mystery place we're going?" she asks, once _White Wedding_ is over. It's Flock of Seagulls now, a song Artie loves. But Quinn's in control of the radio. He'll have to make sure she listens to it later, if she doesn't already know it.

"I could but that would ruin the surprise, yo!" he tells her, a grin on his face.

"You're no fun," she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. "Not even hints?"

"Weeeeell…" Artie makes a left and glances at her, trying not to laugh at the comical expression on her face. "It's a place I like to go to but usually I go there by myself. You're actually the first…friend I've brought there."

A moment of silence falls over them. Then she speaks. "Not even Puck?"

"Nobody," he says, his voice firm. He turns right and they are in the parking lot. Minutes later, he is escorting her into Lima's last remaining…

"Arcade?" she laughs, looking down at him. "This is the place?"

Almost affronted, because he can't tell if she's mocking him or her laughter is borne out of genuine mirth, he rolls past her, once they're inside, going straight for his favorite table, which is unoccupied. "Woman, this place is off the heezy!"

Giggling a little, she sits, then reaches for his hand. "I'm honored to be the first person you have brought here."

All he can think is, OMG…our hands are making contact.

"Artie?" she asks, peering at his face inquisitively.

"Let me get some pizza," he says, his voice too loud. Several people look over at them and Artie smiles sheepishly at them.

"Okay. I'll hold down the table. Um, can you get me something to drink too? A cherry coke, if they have it. Or just coke, if they don't."

He's surprised she doesn't offer to get the food and even more surprised she asks for a drink. Most people try to "help" him and only end up frustrating him, acting like he can't do the simplest of things. Like get a pizza and some sodas. At the counter, he orders the food, hoping pepperoni is okay, since he forgot to ask. They do have cherry coke so he gets two of those, as well an order of these cinnamon twists that are amazing. The woman behind the counter hands him the drinks, which he places between his legs, and tells him the pizza and twists will be over soon. Carefully, he rolls back to the table, handing her the drink.

"So, tell me more about Artie Abrams," she says, a soft smile on her face, as she wrestles with her coat, removing it to reveal the blue v-neck t-shirt underneath.

He kind of wants to stare at her shirt for a couple of minutes but he lifts his eyes to her face. "What do you want to know?" he asks, taking a piece of pizza and putting it on his plate.

"Hmm…tell me three things no one else knows about you." There is a teasing glint in her eye and a smirk on her face so Artie decides to play along, keeping things light.

Pretending to think, he taps a finger to his temple, chewing slowly on his food. She appears to be hiding her amusement at his taking forever to answer, the corners of her mouth betraying her as they quirk up every now and again. He has started his second piece when he finally says what he has been thinking since she first suggested it. "I collect anime and manga."

Pausing in mid bite, she raises both her eyebrows, a question in her eyes.

Laughing under his breath, Artie explains "Anime…you know, Japanese cartoons? And manga are the equivalent of comic books in the U.S. Make sense?"

Swallowing the bite, she nods. "Like Pokemon," she offers, smiling.

It's really hard not to guffaw at the remark but he manages to hold it in. "Not exactly. I'll have to show you some sometime."

Shrugging, she says sure.

"Now it's your turn." He grins at her, watching the surprise dawn in her eyes.

"My turn?"

"It's only fair," he tells her, grabbing his third piece of pizza.

"Fine," she sighs, picking at the cheese on her slice. "Um…no one knows that my favorite books are the Lord of the Rings books. I really like Tolkien's style of writing but I always tell everyone Emma's my favorite book…"

Did she just get hotter or is that illusion of her confession? "Why don't you tell people it's your favorite?"

"Why don't you tell people you collect animation and mangas?"

Chuckling, he corrects her ("Anime and manga"), then says, "I don't know. But valid point."

Trailing her finger along the table top, Quinn watches him, obviously waiting for him to move to number two. His eyes follow her finger's slow sliding motion, his mouth going dry. No girl has ever had this effect on him.

"I," he starts, hoarsely, his voice scratchy. Figuring he needs something to drink, he takes a brief sip of his soda, gulping it down. "Um…well…I have watched every single episode of Gossip Girl." His cheeks blush bright red at the admission, his eyes wandering away from hers.

A short laugh exits her mouth. "That's fantastic! Oh my God! I want to watch with you." Leaning forward, she places an arm across her stomach. "I've never seen that. We should watch together sometime."

Screwing his face up, he feigns a glare in her direction. "This is why I never tell anyone!"

Wiping tears from her eyes, she shakes her head. "I'm sorry! I think it's cute. I really do."

A lopsided grin makes an appearance on his face at her words. "You think I'm cute?" For a moment, he almost thinks she's blushing but then he chalks it up to the lighting. "Now it's your turn!"

Rolling her eyes at the jovial way he issues the declaration, Quinn says, "Okay. Um…I've been to a Justin Bieber concert."

She spits it out so fast, he can barely hear her but then the words register in his brain and it is his turn to laugh. "You went to see him? Girl, why would you do that when you've got me?" The flirting comes almost natural, the words and the wink that follows.

Her mouth half drops open in response and she just stares at him for a moment. "That's a good question," she finally says, thoughtfully.

That she's really considering it makes Artie choke on the soda in his mouth but he's okay after coughing several times.

"Alright there?" she questions, concern flooding her hazel eyes.

"Yup, all good," he replies, when he can, flashing her a thumbs up. "I guess it's my turn then…" His goal is to maintain the levity so he doesn't understand why he says what he does next. "Sometimes, I think everyone would be better off if I hadn't lived after the accident." And then he's cursing himself inwardly, wanting to bang his head on the table. She'll probably flee and never look back, knowing what a genuine head case he is. The clock is ticking (he can hear it in his head) and minutes are going by. Finally, he looks up, winching at the tears glittering in her eyes. Pity. Great.

"Artie," she says, so quietly he can almost not hear her. "You shouldn't…shouldn't think like that. I'm sure no one else does. I know I am…grateful for you. For being with me here now. For all the little things…I know you're the only one in glee club who really missed me when I was gone and back in Sophomore year, it was your idea to sing Lean On Me…" She's really crying now and it is instinct that pushes his hand across the table to grasp hers.

"I know that, Quinn…I know how stupid it is that I think that. Please don't tell anyone."

At his imploring, she nods. "Of course I won't. If you won't tell anyone that I…sometimes feel the same way." Biting her lip, she closes her eyes, so he can't see the pain that would shine through if they were open. But it's too late. He has already caught a glimpse of it. "What I tried to do to Shelby…" He had heard about that but still couldn't make himself think badly of her. "It's just proof of what an unfit mother I would have been. And…my parents. They might have not even got divorced if not for me."

He squeezes her hand, gently, using the other hand to reach out and tilt her chin up. "Looks like we've both got it's a wonderful life syndrome," he murmurs. He counts it as a victory when she smiles through her tears.

"Seems so…but I'd rather not have Clarence visiting me anytime soon." Slipping her hand from his, she stands. "Why don't we try to have some fun now? I want to beat you at something…"

The switch from heavy to light makes his head hurt a little. But he's feeling much better when she wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. Lifting his arms, he hugs her back, pulling her closer until she's in his lap. She fits so perfectly. And it feels so right. He never wants to let go.

They both do, though, their bodies cold from lack of contact.

"You, me, Street Fighter," Artie says, after the silence has stretched too long between them. "I'm going to show you how it's done!"

"Yeah, right," she snorts, heading toward Street Fighter. "Bring it."

"I will," he says, grinning up at her. "Prepare for ultimate T.K.O."

They joke around like that for the rest of the evening, taking turns winning a variety of games. It's late but still seems too soon when he drives her home. At her house, he gets out as quickly as he can while she sits and waits for him. It's a small thing but he appreciates it. He only drove Brittany once and she couldn't wait. Somehow, Quinn knows it's important.

He opens the door for her and rolls up the drive with her, stopping when they reach the porch stairs that lead up to her house. He doesn't want to say goodnight.

"Thanks for a lovely…friend date," she says, tucking a hair behind her ear. "I had a good time."

The words friend date make him wince. "Yeah, me too. Maybe we can do it again sometime…only minus the friend."

He watches as her eyes sparkle, her teeth tug on her bottom lip, her body starts to bend at the waist. A ghost of brush of her lips against the corner of his mouth and he forgets how to breathe properly. "I'd like that," she whispers, before standing and hopping up the stairs.

Leaving Artie sitting there thinking, that…that really just happened.

He's sort of in that state for the rest of the weekend, laying in his bed on Sunday, thinking about Quinn and her eyes and her lips and her smile and her voice. He cannot get her out of his head and he doesn't want to either. Is this what it can be like? he thinks, staring at his math homework. A relationship with someone who accepts me as I am, someone I can actually talk to, someone I feel comfortable with.

For a moment, he thinks he feels more comfortable with Quinn than he has with anyone else. But then he thinks of Puck and their friendship. Yeah, he can be himself, comfortably, with Puck too. A vision of the future, of Quinn as his girl and Puck as his best friend, enters his mind and he can't help but smile.

Then, just as quickly as it came, it is gone, a cloud obscuring the pictures in his head.

Puck. Quinn's baby daddy, former. Also Quinn's ex. A fear starts to grow inside of him that by the actions of the previous night, he has screwed everything up with Puck. Their re-blossoming friendship might wilt…again. Grimacing, Artie stops even pretending to concentrate on math.

Tomorrow after glee club. That's when he'll talk to Puck.

The next day is not quite agony but Artie is apprehensive about the conversation he know he needs to have with Puck later. On top of that are the butterflies that create a hurricane in his stomach every time he sees Quinn, their eyes locking across the halls or the lunch room or in the choir room when she enters it for glee club. She's half way to the chair beside him when Sugar plops herself into it.

He curls his upper lip in disdain. He's not really in for her ableist barbs today. Not that he ever is, actually.

"Sugar, this seat is taken," he tells her, beckoning Quinn over with a finger. Arching an eyebrow, she makes her way over, taking her sweet time, apparently.

"What?" Sugar is thoroughly confused, if the expression on her face is any indication. "But you want me, don't you? I've decided that we can be together, despite our differently abled statuses."

"Are you serious?" Quinn's voice cuts in as soon as Sugar is done speaking. Both teens look up at her, Sugar blanching and Artie grinning at how formidable she appears. "What is your problem? Don't say your self-diagnosed asperger's. Everyone knows that's just a cover up and BS for what you really are. I've got a tip for you, Sugar. Don't alienate yourself. That's what you're doing by being such a b -"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," interrupts Artie, pushing up his glasses, as Sugar stands to her feet.

"I'm not trying to be mean," Quinn says, in defensive of her words. "But giving Sugar some solid advice. Maybe she won't go through what I did, what I put myself through because of my own actions."

How can Artie not feel proud of her at that moment?

"Whatever," huffs Sugar, facing Artie. "If you decide you want this," she goes on, gesturing toward her body. "Instead of some washed up has been, you know where to find me." Stomping her feet, she heads to the back row, taking a seat next to Tina, who ignores her.

With a roll of her eyes, Quinn sinks into the chair next to Artie. "So do you want that?" she asks, tilting her head, catching him off guard.

His voice low and raw, he responds, "I think it's fairly clear what and who I want."

The blush that touches her cheeks makes him feel dizzy and giddy. "I think so…" She draws out the o and her mouth is so tempting. But Puck comes in and he remembers.

Luckily, she doesn't have time to wonder at his sudden aloofness because Mr. Schuester is bringing the meeting to order with a clap of his hands.

After glee club is over, Artie scoots himself after Puck, pretending he doesn't hear Quinn calling his name. It's a hard task but he knows nothing can happen there until he speaks with Puck.

"Puck," he practically shouts, breathlessly.

Pivoting on one foot, Puck faces Artie, both eyebrows arched. "What's up, little master?"

The nickname causes Artie to smile. But then he recalls what he needs to discuss with Puck. "It's about Quinn -"

"You like her? I got no problem with that."

Surprised, Artie stammers, "Y-you knew?"

"I got eyes, don't I?" Puck grins, leans against the lockers to his left. "You looking for my blessing?" He laughs, under his breath. "Look, I appreciate you coming to me like this but you didn't have to. Quinn and I have a history, yeah, but that's all it is."

Clutching his hands in his lap, Artie thinks that, for the first time, he might be getting it all. The girl, the friend and the future. "I just don't want it to effect our friendship."

"Dude," Puck replied, leaning forward to clap a hand against Artie's shoulder. "Not gonna happen. I know that I've ignored you this year but it's been…" When he trails off, Artie nods, ready to say he understands, but Puck starts speaking again before he can. "It's been messed up. I coulda used a friend but I didn't want to admit that."

From down the hall, they hear laughter and voices. Puck can see who it is, over Artie's shoulder, but Artie can't. Giving his chair a fancy spin, he spies Finn and Rachel, hand in hand, heading their way. For just a moment, her eyes meet Puck's and she looks almost sad. Is there a chance she might feel something for Puck too? But they are passing by, a smile and a nod at Puck and Artie. And then they are gone.

Puck looks like someone hit him the stomach with a baseball bat. "I gotta get over her but nothing works, dude. None of the things I used to do. None of the chicks or getting high, drinking. Nothing."

"That's why you need a friend," Artie responds, smiling up at Puck.

"Yeah." When Puck smiles back, Artie thinks he's convinced. "We should hang again sometime. Gotta play that zombie game. But right now, go get your girl."

"I'm sorry, what?" sounds out Quinn's voice from behind him.

Frozen, Artie stares up at Puck, who winks down at him before sauntering away. Moving around him, Quinn comes to stand in front of him. "Who was he talking about?" she asks, looking wary.

"Who do you think?" Artie squeaks out, the words sounding a lot less confident out loud than they had in his head.

A smirk forms on her face. "I think you need to show me."

All of his bravado is gone but he acts nonetheless. Only not in the way she probably expected. Reaching out, he takes her hand in his and kisses the back of it. "Quinn Fabray, may I accompany you out to the parking lot?"

Mouth hanging open, she gazes at him for several long seconds. "What?"

"I thought I'd escort you to your car."

"Oh," she says, with a small frown. "Thanks."

Not releasing her hand, he goes on. "And would you like to go on a non friend date with me on Saturday?"

Biting her lip, she nods, blushing ever so slightly. "I'd like that." When she bends over and touches her lips to his, he barely has time to react. "See me to my car?"

Grinning, he does just that, thinking that this could possibly be his happily ever after. About time too.


End file.
